A Fraction of a Second Reflected in a Mirror
by Winged Dancer
Summary: Unexpected, the shadow of the lantern's fire caught in the mirror and then life was over. Short introspective on Link at the end of Twilight Princess - where is he going, why? Slight hints L/M, L/I and L/Z, as life is confusing like that.


**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of any of the characters that appears or are referenced to in this text. This is a work of fiction, and I am making no profit out of it.

**Warnings: **No romance, really. Mentions of Link/Ilia. Mentions of Link/Midna. Mentions of Link/Zelda. Introspective.

**A Fraction of a Second Reflected of a Mirror**

A_ Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess _fanfiction by Winged Dancer

It came onto him unexpected, in a fraction of a second reflected on a mirror. A longing, particular and unique, for something he did not even know he had enjoyed enough to ever miss.

Months after the defeat of Ganondorf the land of Hyrule and all around it were slowly gaining back their usual peace and security, but there were still small bands of bokoblins and other monsters that preyed on whatever travelers they found in the plains. So when Rusl announced there were tools he needed to buy at Hyrule's marketplace, and asked Link to accompany him during the trip, the reaction across Ordon village was less surprise and more knowing, accepting nods. Though he was still young, Link had proven himself capable enough of defending what was his, even if he did leave the village for longer than most people approved.

Neither aware nor caring to know about what the villagers thought, Link was all too excited at the idea of the trip. For the last months he had rarely left the village, and while he was most definitely not bored, he did welcome the chance to ride out and enjoy himself.

And it had been such a long time since he visited Castle Town. He remembered all the shop stalls, and the games and the people, and grew even more eager. And this time, Colin was coming with them as well, as Rusl did not want to waste any chance he had to teach his son swordsmanship. And Link thought, it'd be good if he could take Colin sightseeing while his father was busy, and buy him some candy and take him to see the insects Agitha kept and pay him a round or two of games.

He had some money saved for such an occasion - at least fifty rupees stashed in a small chest of drawers in his basement. So off he went to his house, up the ladder and down the second ladder into the basement, with the lantern swinging from his belt, already lit.

And there it was - a fraction of a second reflected on the mirror, the shadow of the lantern's fire and he stopped, suddenly scared by the unexpected movement in front of him.

He had no time to laugh and wonder why did he keep a mirror in front of the ladder in the darkest room of the house. The instant he realized it was himself he was seeing Link was struck with the thought that it wasn't himself that he was watching.

Something was off. The clothes didn't fit him too well. The light made his face look odd. His hair was too grown. Something was _off_.

Lantern in hand, he stepped a little closer to the mirror. No wonder the clothes didn't fit him so well - he could swear he had grown at least an inch or so during the last months.

And, he noticed, he had filled up. Well-defined muscles adorned his arms and made the one-sleeve shirt he usually wore somewhat tight. Even his sandals felt uncomfortable. His hands were calloused and rough, several scars all over his body still served as proof of the many battles he had taken part in.

And suddenly, it swept all over him, a longing, particular and unique, for something he did not even know he had enjoyed enough to ever miss. The feeling of rough leather covering his hands and feet, the cold weight of chain mail over his shoulders. He flexed a hand - he missed holding a sword, and the acid thrill of letting go of an arrow and watch it hit its target.

Most definitely not bored? But he was. Bored, oh so bored. Life as a wrangler had been fine for all of his life, but then those short months of riding free, fighting, learning of all the land had to offer, how could the goats at the farm even compete? And he hadn't noticed - all the times he had felt melancholy seeping into his thoughts as he milked the goats, the wanderlust caused by using Epona to herd the cattle instead of battling, how could he have not noticed?

He now remembered, how in the week following Midna's goodbye, the princess had asked him to stay. She would knight him, she said, and he could learn from the other soldiers and teach them in return. She would see to his accommodation and food until he got used to life in castle town, and he would be charged with guarding the Master Sword, and the Temple of Time, and every and all the secrets that were too valuable to loose.

He had been tempted, because in Zelda he could feel something of Midna. She had given the twili her spirit, in a way she had been with him as well. Maybe because of this talk came easy with Zelda, even if he didn't say much, but the silences they had shared had never felt laden. And she was probably one of the few with whom he could speak about everything he had experienced, about Midna most of all.

But he had thought it was his responsibility to go back and live in Ordon again. With Ganondorf dead and princess Zelda safe on the throne, it seemed only logical that he went back to Ordon, back to his roots, to his friends, to Ilia, and lived as he had.

More than a responsibility - hadn't that been the reason he fought? To take back what was his? His land, his way of life?

Then, why was something so off?

In a rush of sadness Link understood that Ordon village was suddenly too small for him, life as a wrangler too constricted. Even with the occasional escort missions that Rusl assigned to him, he had outgrown his life there by just a little, just as he had outgrown his shirt by just a little.

He could not stay. He realized now, the mark on his hand meant more than he had comprehended. It had not been given to him to fight for his way of life, but to fight for something much bigger.

He could not stay. He would work at the ranch, eventually own part of it, marry Ilia and have kids, and never again know the feeling of the wind on his face and the weight of a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. Life would go on as he had always thought it'd go. He would talk to Ilia about what he had lived - she would appreciate the adventures, and the way she forgot him and remembered again would be a story they would tell their children and they to their own children. But would she believe him that he had transformed into a wolf, or understand the world he lived through his nose and not his eyes? Would she listen to his tries at describing the Twili world? Would she be happy, hearing her husband talk so fondly about a woman called Midna? He would drown, slowly, and become unhappy, and make her and everyone around unhappy too.

Perhaps Zelda had understood all of this, even back then, and that was why she had invited him. He didn't think she was offended by his refusal, but by now she was probably busy tending to her kingdom, and he had no guarantee that her offer still stood. What to do? What to do? Was there anything at all he could do?

And then, for the first time since he arrived to the basement, he laughed. The oil in the lantern was running out, and he missed Midna more than ever. She would've mocked him, wasting all that oil in admiring him reflection on a mirror. Why think so much? Why doubt? Just take action.

In a different trunk he found the chain mail and green tunic he had worn during his travels, and placed them on a chair next to his bed.

The next morning, Rusl said nothing about his choice of clothes.

"Well you're late ain't you. I was starting to think you had changed your mind about coming with me. Any problem?"

"Not really," answered the youth. "I just had to talk with Ilia, and her father too."

"I see," said Rusl in return. He knew better than to pressure Link: he was not shy, but he never said much.

And as they were loading the small wagon they would use, Link turned to him.

"Rusl."

"Yes, Link?"

"I have decided, just so you know. I won't come back with you. I'll stay at Castle Town."

"That sounds good to me. You've got friends there, and all. For how long?"

"For as long as possible. For a long, long time, if Zelda will have me in her service."

Rusl spared a look at the boy, no longer a boy. He was a little surprised, there was no denying that, but he had felt something like this coming, he had seen how restless Link was growing, even if Link didn't seem to notice it himself.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that," he said after a moment.

Beyond the spring, just before Ordona became the wide plains of Hyrule, plenty of people were waiting for them, and Rusl realized he was the last Link had spoken to. His wife Uli was there, and so were Colin and Beth, Malo and Talo, as well as mayor Bo and Ilia, with some red around her eyes.

Link hugged them all and promised to come back to visit, and Rusl almost smiled at how much emphasis the youth made about visiting, not coming back.

And some minutes later he was leading the wagon and Link was on Epona, once more the warrior that had appeared before him when he joined the resistance, and he didn't look back.

Behind him, Link knew without seeing that Ilia would be the last one to leave, looking at his back with her hands bunched in front of her. But before him were the plains of Hyrule, smelling of clean grass and water and horses, and at the other side of that freedom rose Hyrule Castle, white and proud and full of promises.


End file.
